


Every Day’s a New Day, Every Time I Love You

by jellybeanforest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alien Among Us, Cap-Ironman Bingo, Established Relationship, Gaslighting, Insecurity, Jealousy, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, S.H.I.E.L.D.-sanctioned body doubles, Skrull Invasion, Skrull!Steve - Freeform, Sort Of, for kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 16:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21273953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellybeanforest/pseuds/jellybeanforest
Summary: Since their discovery in the 90’s, Skrulls have served an important (but highly-classified) function at S.H.I.E.L.D.: to temporarily replace operatives on deep-cover missions, pretending to be said operative in their normal civilian life and boring S.H.I.E.L.D. desk job while the original is off doing something important. Sometimes in space.Steve has a Skrull body double who occasionally lives his life for a couple days every once in a blue moon. He isn’t a bad guy. He does his job competently, plays cards with Sam and Natasha, and maintains a respectful distance from Steve’s husband, Tony Stark. The usual. Only… Tony can totally tell. He doesn’t know about Skrulls or what Steve’s deal is, but he knows that Steve loves him some days but not others, and it shakes his confidence in their marriage.For the Cap-IronMan Bingo 2019 Round 2 – Alien Among Us.





	Every Day’s a New Day, Every Time I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “More Today Than Yesterday” by Spiral Starecase.

There’s something wearing Steve’s skin. It peers out of Steve’s blue eyes and whispers untruths low in Tony’s ear using Steve’s gravelly voice, calling him sweetheart as they dance in the labs, an old song recorded before Tony’s birth mellow and warbling in the background. It declines Tony’s advances for more. _Perhaps some other time, sweetheart. We’ve both had a long day, and you should get some rest._ It runs past Sam, always to his left, and spars with Natasha, allowing her to pin it to the mat when she points out Tony’s ass in workout pants. It even has Steve’s same tells when they all play cards together on Wednesday nights, and Natasha cleans him out in fifteen rounds flat.

But Tony can tell. It’s the little things – the way his eyes flicker with recognition when Tony makes a nineties reference, the way he sometimes neglects to share the same story for the fifth time, even his switch from baloney to Tony’s far-superior tuna for his sandwiches – all those tiny almost-insignificant slips in the mask. Individually, they can be explained away – maybe Steve finally figured out how to DVR reruns and remembered he ran out of stories and gained a sense of taste – but all together? It is downright suspicious. And then there is the one glaring inconsistency he can’t ignore…

“I love you, sweetheart,” Steve tells him, eyes bright and smile wide, and Tony knows it’s a lie. He can feel it deep in his bones with startling clarity.

Whoever this is. Whatever it is. It isn’t Steve.

…Or maybe that’s what Tony tells himself to cover a more disturbing truth.

Perhaps Steve has simply grown weary of their life together and feels trapped in their marriage, tired of being tied down, tired of Tony himself. Tony is losing him–

Steve slides a cup of coffee in front of Natasha as she reviews the specs of their next mission.

To her.

Tony is old and seasoned enough to know it’s not Nat’s fault. She works closely with Steve, but she’s ever the consummate professional, keeping their interactions friendly but superficial, as is appropriate.

“Reconnaissance only. So leave the suit at home,” she tells him, too engrossed in the intricacies of their target’s supply network to notice Steve’s soft eyes fixated on her.

Steve simply hums, taking a sip from his own cup.

Tony can’t watch, so like a coward, he steps away, retreats to his lab to tinker with the next upgrade on his Iron Man armor. He thinks of the way Steve had looked at Nat and adjusts the composition of metal alloy to make the shell stronger, less prone to shattering.

* * *

That night, Tony showers and preps. He puts on mood lighting, slips into something sexy (that tiny red thong that Steve favored so much but always rides up his backside), and propositions his husband.

“We’ve both been so busy; I thought we could maybe take the night off,” he whispers suggestively, slipping his hands into Steve’s back pockets and leaning in to kiss the hollow of his neck.

Steve gulps. “Um… I hate to do this, but can I take a rain check? I- I have to get back to the office. Fury called an emergency meeting, and I just came in here for a change of clothes.”

Tony pulls back, disappointed. “Oh, but it’s been a few days, and I thought…”

“This is a wonderful surprise, sweetheart, and any other day, I’d be all over it – all over you – but… duty calls. You understand, right?” And Steve says it so earnestly, it almost sounds like the truth.

Tony wants to believe him. “…Right.”

“I love you, Tony,” Steve says, planting a kiss on his forehead before disentangling himself from Tony’s embrace.

_Liar._

* * *

Steve comes home the following day and takes Tony up on his offer. He’s ever gentle as he takes Tony, worshipping him with his hands, his tongue and mouth, like the treasure he is, like Steve is the luckiest man alive to have Tony underneath him, pliant and wanting and _his_, forever and always.

In the aftermath, Tony lies across Steve’s chest, their combined sweat making their skin tacky where they touch. “I love you, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, and Tony knows it’s true. Today, that is. Steve loves him today, but sometimes, he doesn’t. He lies about it anyway.

“I love you, too,” Tony whispers back, mouthing against a dusky nipple, tickling his husband and causing his chest to spasm below him. And Tony means it. He always does.

(In truth, Steve’s inconstancy makes the times he doesn’t love him even harder.)

But Tony is relieved Steve loves him.

For now.

* * *

Steve hasn’t loved him for over a week, Tony is sure, and nothing he does improves the situation. He isn’t responding to Tony’s flirtations, his insinuations, not even his outright requests for sex. Instead, he always demurs and seems cagey, nervous, every time Tony is in the room. He stays at work later – likely working alongside Nat – and comes home smelling of sweat and musky temptation. Tony tries to entice him back to their bed, but every rejection feels like an entirely-different (and significantly less-satisfying) ‘little death.’

“I really have to get this paperwork done, or Fury will have my ass,” Steve had declined the first time. “This report is overdue, and I’m trying to diplomatically explain a certain situation Nat and I had gotten into. What’s a euphemism for ‘complete clusterfuck’? The current frontrunner is ‘communication breakdown.’”

_That’s not the only ‘communication breakdown’ involving Steve,_ Tony thinks as he slinks back into the bedroom. He falls asleep waiting for his husband, and in the morning, Steve’s side of the bed is untouched, unslept in.

“Nocturnal mission,” he had explained another time.

_But no nocturnal emissions, apparently._

“Not right now, Tony… I- um… I have a headache,” Steve had said on Sunday, his day off, when he couldn’t use work as an excuse.

_Since when did Steve have headaches? _Invulnerable super-soldiers don’t get headaches unless an entire building drops on them, and even then, it’s a temporary sort of thing that didn’t necessarily preclude sex hours later.

Tony can’t take it anymore.

“Why don’t you ever touch me?” he confronts him.

Steve looks up from his seat at the kitchen table where he had been doing a crossword puzzle in pen. “I’ve just been busy, sweetheart.”

Tony stares pointedly at the paper folded over in his hands, looking entirely unconvinced. “Too busy for a quickie against the fridge?” he says, tipping his head in the direction of the refrigerator.

“People eat in here; that’s where we store our food.”

“Didn’t bother you when we christened every room in the house.”

Steve looks mildly scandalized before he schools his features to their neutral setting.

Tony frowns, crossing his arms. “It’s a little too late for shame, honey.”

“What is this about?”

“I just told you. You never touch me anymore. We haven’t had sex for almost two weeks!”

“It’s just… I- I’ve been busy.”

“Hm. You said that already, but I see you sitting there, doing the crossword like you do every Sunday, and I can’t help but wonder why you have time to do that when you could be doing this,” Tony indicates himself with a flourish of hands, even if he feels a touch embarrassed at being reduced to asking so blatantly.

Just that morning, Tony had stood in front of the mirror, turning this way and that, examining the cut of his body which had grown slightly soft with age but still retained its muscle definition, and then his face, concentrating on the salt-and-pepper of his hair and the beginnings of crow’s feet just kissing the corner of his eyes. Tony may be older, sure, but he’s still attractive, damn it, and he shouldn’t have to beg for scraps of attention and affection from his _husband_ of all people.

He examines Steve with that very same critical eye. There’s not even a hint of crow’s feet nor silver. His muscles, bulging from under his tight shirt, are still as impressive and well-formed as the day they met. He is older than Tony, but physically, he is still in his prime while Tony is fifteen to twenty years past his. _Is that the reason he won’t–_

“It helps keep me sharp?” Steve replies lamely, his excuse rather thin.

“And I dull your mind?” Tony challenges him. “My company is not sufficiently intellectually-stimulating? Duly noted.”

Steve stands, approaching the other man to gather him in his unfairly-strong arms. “Tony… It’s not- that’s not what I meant. I have a lot on my mind, and when we’re together, I like to have a clear head, be really in the moment, because that’s what you deserve,” he says, stroking Tony’s back, trying to placate him with soft words and sentiments. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Liar.”

“What?” Steve sounds perplexed.

Tony pushes him away to meet his eyes. “You think I can’t tell? Some days you do; others you don’t, and right now, you don’t.” He jabs his index finger into Steve’s chest. “You haven’t for a while.”

“I- I don’t understand.”

He throws up his hands. “I don’t either. So, why don’t you tell me: What’s going on with you? What’s wrong with _us_?”

“Nothing. We’re married. We have a great life together, and I love you,” Steve spits out in frustration.

Tony sucks in a breath, his expression hardening. “No you don’t. Stop saying that like you think that should be the end of it, like you’re trying to shut me up or convince me I’m crazy for ever doubting you. Just stop lying! You can’t fool me because _I know you_.”

“Obviously not as much as you think.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence.”

“Tony… sweetheart,” Steve steps in once again to comfort his husband, but Tony shrugs him off, flinching away from him as if burned. So, Steve backs off, holding his hands in front of him, palms out, in a placating manner. “I want you to be happy. I do, and I’m really trying. I just don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you to tell me the truth. Be honest with me, Steve. For once.”

“Alright!” Steve barks in exasperation before ultimately softening to a quiet “Alright…”

“Now… do you love me?” Tony’s voice is scarcely a whisper.

Steve lets out a long-suffering sigh. His shoulders droop as he admits, “Not right now. No.”

“…Oh.” It barely sounds like anything, the moment a heart breaks.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Sometimes the truth hurts, but…” Tony chokes up, unable to continue.

Steve tries to wrap him in his arms once again, but his husband rebuffs him.

“Sweetheart, no. Don’t be upset. I was lying because it was the only answer you’d accept.”

“No, you weren’t,” Tony mutters, the words wobbly but determined. “I– I think I’m going to stay in a hotel for a few days. I can’t be here. I can’t even look at you right now.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve says, and for a moment, Tony thinks he’s going to beg him to stay. “I’ll go back to the Triskelion. Sleep in the barracks.”

_Of course._

“So you can be close to Natasha?” he accuses.

“Tony…”

“I can’t do this anymore!” He explodes. “I can’t live like this. You want to be with Nat, then go, and see if she’ll have my leftovers, because I am done with you.”

Steve’s temper rises to meet Tony’s own. “There’s nothing going on between me and Nat!”

Tony is uncertain whether it’s the accusation or getting caught that underlies Steve’s anger. He decides it’s the latter. “Only because she respects me too much to want you.”

“I would never cheat on you.”

“You already have!” Tony exclaims, palming the line of his closed eyes, wiping away the tears leaking out. “Just– just get out!”

“Tony, please–”

“Get out of my house!”

* * *

Steve returns hours later looking sufficiently chastised carrying two dozen long-stem roses and a new ratchet set to replace the one Tony had melted a couple days before and hadn’t had time to replace due to his distress over his husband’s extended disinterest in him.

Tony rests his hands on his hips, his elbows bent. “I thought I told you to get out.” He was just about to rescind Steve’s access, too, but he had been too busy crying to honeybear about his impending divorce to instruct F.R.I.D.A.Y. to remove him from the list of approved residents or even call his team of lawyers to start the paperwork.

Steve puts down the tools and holds out the bouquet to Tony. He doesn’t accept it, so Steve lays it on the counter beside them. “I’m so sorry, Tony. I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you, and I made you think… well, it doesn’t matter. I want another chance to make it up to you, if you’ll have me.”

Tony regards him. He does look genuinely apologetic, sufficiently subdued by their fight, and he _did_ bring flowers.

“One chance,” he tells him. “You get one. No more lies. No more secrets.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Steve replies.

He looks relieved in the seconds before Tony steps in and kisses him, his hands reaching around to cradle Steve’s neck and cheek. Steve freezes then melts into him, probably surprised by Tony’s easy forgiveness. He must be uncertain how to proceed because his tongue is clumsier than usual, their teeth clacking together more than once, so Tony decides to take the reins. His hands ghost over Steve’s shirt, flicking open a button.

Steve breaks their kiss, looking moderately alarmed.

“Don’t worry, honey; I’m not mad anymore,” Tony tries to reassure him, before capturing his lips once again and undoing another three buttons with his clever fingers. He spreads his hands inside to tease the pert nipples, circling the erect nubs.

Suddenly, Steve is wrenched away from him and thrown against the wall by–

Another Steve? One who is angry and snarling as he holds an arm across Steve Prime’s throat.

“What the hell, Cranditch?” Steve 2.0 barks, pressing harder. “Did you really just try to sleep with my husband! I warned you he is off-limits.”

“Oh no! It’s an evil double!” Original Steve wheezes, clawing at the arm across his throat just before Steve 2.0 releases him, allowing him to sink to the floor. He massages his neck and gulps in large breaths of air.

“…Really?” Steve asks, his tone incredulous and face murderous, looking ready to continue his assault on his doppelganger.

“Okay, sorry sir,” Cranditch drops the disguise, revealing a bald, pointy-eared green alien.

Tony’s eyes bug out, his face one of utter disbelief. _What the fuck? What the actual fuck?_

Cranditch continues, “But Mr. Stark is far more observant than he lets on. He was getting suspicious, and I screwed up, okay? He kicked you out, was probably in the process of obtaining a divorce, and… I’m not trained for long-term missions. I can do the card games; I can make him a passable breakfast – even burn the bacon a little like you tend to do; I mean, people like crisp but what you do is a traves– Anyway, I can do all that, but when you get to the lovey-dovey stuff, it gets a little dicey.”

“What are you even doing here?” Steve persists in his interrogation. “Fury told Tony I was going to be gone for ten days, and then you sneak in on the day I was supposed to return to what? Fuck around with Tony? I thought you liked X’arra.”

“Please don’t tell her about this. We have to keep working together, especially when you go on missions with Agent Romanoff,” Cranditch pleads, standing up and stepping out of range of Steve’s fists. He holds up his hands in surrender. “It wasn’t even my idea, you know. Fury thought it would be better if people thought you were still on active duty in New York. Less suspicious. I just do what I’m told, go where I’m deployed.”

“Christ,” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, his anger subsiding before he firmly asserts, “You are not cleared for missions longer than two days. I never authorized that. Just… just get out. I’ll deal with Fury later.”

Cranditch exits, leaving Tony and the real Steve to hash out the repercussions.

“Tony, sweetheart,” Steve puts a comforting hand on his upper back, rubbing circles there. “Are you okay?”

Tony blinks. “What the fuck, Steve?” he bats off his touch. “What? I mean who… What was that?”

Steve sighs. “Long story short: Shape-shifting aliens live among us, have been since at least the nineties. S.H.I.E.L.D. uses them when top operatives go on secret missions. Cranditch is the one assigned to me, but he wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“You’ve been… You let another person into our home without telling me? You let me think he was you?” Tony rages, his hands held up in front of him and clawed fingers twitching, wanting to strangle his husband. “Just so we’re clear: that is what just happened?”

“He wasn’t supposed to be here,” Steve tries to explain again. “Fury–”

“This time yeah, but what about all those other times? He was you, and you knew but didn’t tell me.”

“He was under explicit orders not to touch you.”

That does _not_ make it better.

…Okay, maybe it makes it a little bit better, but still.

“I thought you didn’t love me. I thought there was something wrong with us, with me. I kept going over what I could have done to make you lose interest in me,” Tony’s voice grows in volume, every accusation a knife in Steve’s gut. “I thought you were in love with Natasha, for Chrissake!”

“Sweetheart...”

“Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me,” he hisses. He’s already had this argument with the other Steve, but that turned out to have been a trial run for the real deal. “I kissed him. I threw myself at him. I would have…” Tony sucks in a breath, hands over his face and pressing hard into his eyes. “Damn it, Steve! How the fuck could you keep this from me?”

“I’m sorry, Tony. It was a mistake–”

“Damn straight,” he looks up at him, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What else have you been using Cranditch for? As my date to stuffy galas? The annual Maria Stark Foundation fundraiser? Because I know you don’t like attending those, and if I had a body double, I would never attend another board meeting. Ever.”

“We don’t use body doubles for personal events,” Steve reassures him, his voice open and honest. “Cranditch only stands in when I’m out on S.H.I.E.L.D. business for a couple days, max, and only when Captain America needs an alibi.”

“You made me think I was crazy.” Tony pounds his chest lightly with both fists. “I _was_ going crazy.”

“I know, sweetheart, and I’m so so sorry.” He reaches out to rub Tony’s shoulders. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Maybe… I don’t know,” Tony looks down and to the left, away from Steve. “Probably. I just… Time. I think I’m going to need a little time.”

“I understand. I love you, Tony.”

And Steve means it. He’s always meant it.

Tony steps in and wraps his arms around Steve’s back, burying his nose in the crook of Steve’s neck and breathing in deep. Steve waits a beat before he returns the gesture, and Tony feels safe and loved in the cocoon of limbs.

“Love you, too,” he mumbles. “Still pissed, though.”

“I know.”

“You owe me,” Tony insists. “I get one big fuck-up.”

“Mm,” Steve hums his agreement. “I’ll remember that next time you add sesame seeds to the stir fry, and I almost die.”

“…Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who have seen Nolan’s 2006 movie “The Prestige,” this is inspired by the relationship between Alfred Borden and his wife, Sarah, specifically these exchanges:
> 
> Alfred: Everything’s going to be alright, because I love you very much.  
Sarah: Say it again.  
Alfred: I love you.  
Sarah: Not today.  
Alfred: What do you mean?  
Sara: Well, some days it’s not true. Maybe today you’re more in love with magic. I like being able to tell the difference. It makes the days it is true mean something.
> 
> Alfred: I love you.  
Sarah: You mean it today.  
Alfred: Of course.  
Sarah: It just makes it so much harder when you don’t.
> 
> Sarah: Alfred, I can’t live like this!  
Alfred: Well, what do you want from me?  
Sarah: I want… I want you to be honest with me. No tricks. No lies. No secrets… Do you – do you love me?  
Alfred: Not today. No


End file.
